1 The Empty Centre of Conrad’s Nostromo: A New Economic Approach Claire Wilkinson Twentieth century criticism of Nostromo (1904) often returns to the problem of the novel’s so-called ‘empty centre’. E. M. Forster’s famous description of Conrad as ‘misty in the middle as well as at the edges’ relates to a perceived lack of integrity in the essays collected as Notes on Life and Letters in 1921, but it might well be appropriated as a description of the novelist’s narrative strategy.1 To misquote Forster’s criticism in this way is to argue for the primacy of a necessary difficulty found in Conrad’s rhetorical and narrative orders: a mistiness with a stylistic, as well as moral, function. The claim is particularly true of Nostromo, a novel populated by an array of puppet-like characters each dedicated to a singular or rarefied idea. The interconnected tales of these individuals revolve about the mysteriously ephemeral and yet problematically substantial San Tomé silver, and are told in a stubbornly non-chronological arrangement of diverging analeptic accounts. At no point does the reader catch up to the narrative present, set in a perpetually suspended future some time after the Oceanic Steam Navigation Company’s Captain Mitchell retires to England with $17,000 shares in the Consolidated San Tomé Mines safely in his pocket. 2 Instead, Costaguana’s haphazard succession of rulers and dictators emerge from and retreat over the Sulaco mountains in a non-linear sequence which resists the historical timeline of the story’s events. Nostromo thereby occupies an atemporal and shifting present, the deferral of a purchase in time giving the narrative the sense of existing all at once; the ‘misty’ qualities of Conrad’s writing are integral to the novel’s style. Forster, of course, didn’t mean this by his 1 E. M. Forster, ‘Joseph Conrad: A Note’, in Abinger Harvest (London 1936) pp. 134–7: 134. 2 Nostromo (London 2012) pp. 418–32: 418 (Mitchell’s retirement to England is on p. 445). Subsequent references are given in parentheses in the text. 2 review. ‘[T]he secret casket of his genius’, it goes on to say, ‘contains a vapour rather than a jewel’. 3 This essay looks at the connection between these empty centres, vapour-filled caskets, and a vision of the international economy developed in Nostromo. It argues that Conrad is engaged in the production of a profound irony, which functions as a comment upon the much more significant ‘empty centre’ of capitalism’s acquisitive nature. This irony is as much a part of the novel’s form and style as it is of its ideology: a study of Nostromo’s economic logic reveals Conrad’s representation of material substance and the financial structures it operates within as radical. Taking a New Economic approach to the novelist’s writing advances established Marxist and post-colonial readings of his work, and it has consequences for how we might imagine the relationship between language and value in early twentieth-century fiction more widely.4 3 Forster, ‘Joseph Conrad: A Note’, p. 134. 4 See Andrew Francis, Culture and Commerce in Conrad’s Asian Fiction (Cambridge 2015). Concentrating on Conrad’s western world, Francis’s book makes a case for assessing economics in literary research on Conrad. For more on New Economic Criticism, see Martha Woodmansee and Mark Osteen (eds.), The New Economic Criticism: Studies at the Intersection of Literature and Economics (London 1999) pp. 14-16. This collection develops work on the homologies between money and language begun in the 1970s. Ferruccio Rossi-Landi’s Linguistics and Economics (The Hague 1975), Jean-Joseph Goux’s Symbolic Economies, trans. Jennifer Curtis Gage (Ithaca 1990) – published in French in two volumes, Économie et symbolique (Paris 1973) and Les Iconoclasts (Paris 1978), and Marc Shell’s The Economy of Literature (Baltimore 1978) and Money, Language and Thought: Literary and Philosophical Economies from the Medieval to the Modern Era (Berkeley 1982), are among the first studies to consider the parallels between economic and linguistic systems. A small but consistent interest remained in the 1980s and 1990s, for example, Walter Benn Michaels, The Gold Standard and the Logic of Naturalism (Berkeley 1987) and Regenia Gagnier, The Insatiability of Human Wants (Chicago 2000). Interest in the field revived following the 2007–8 financial crisis; see e.g. Paul Crosthwaite, Peter Knight, and Nicky Marsh, ‘Economic Criticism’, in issues of The Year’s Work in Critical and Cultural Theory since 2015; Joshua Clover and Christopher Nealon, ‘Value | Theory | Crisis’, PMLA, 127 (2012) pp. 107–14; and a special 3 For all the praise that has been directed at Conrad’s work – for his innovation, his acute perception and expression, his necessary difficulty – he is rarely described as ‘radical’, particularly in relation to his exploration of economic relationships. Edward Said and Terry Eagleton have argued that the empty centre of Nostromo is indicative of the absence of a particular variety of imagination.5 Eagleton’s materialist reading of the novel in Criticism and Ideology (1976) posits that because the action of the story (the despatch and subsequent theft of the San Tomé silver) has ‘no coherent historical intelligibility’ for Conrad, Nostromo can have no ideological centre. 6 Said takes a similar line of enquiry, seeing that the dark magnificence of Nostromo is in part created by its ‘crucial limitations of vision’.7 In his classic essay ‘Through Gringo Eyes’ (1988), he offers what has become the standard assessment of imperialism in the novel: Conrad writes as a man in whom a Western view of the non-Western world is so deeply ingrained that it blinds him to other histories, other cultures, other aspirations.8 What Said finds in Conrad is a writer limited as much by position as by perspective. Though the great compliment paid to the Polish novelist in the introduction to Beginnings (1978) positions his work as ‘nomadic’, such that its authority ‘is never in the same place, is never always at the centre’, this stylistic nomadism does not in the end edition of Textual Practice titled ‘How Abstract Is It? Thinking Capital Now’, ed. Rebecca Colesworthy and Peter Nicholls, TP, 28 (2014). 5 See Terry Eagleton, Criticism and Ideology (London1976), pp. 138–40; Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism (London 1993); id., Joseph Conrad and the Fiction of Autobiography (Cambridge, Mass. 1966); id., ‘Through Gringo Eyes: With Conrad in Latin America’, in Reflections on Exile and other Literary and Cultural Essays (Cambridge, Mass. 2002) pp. 276–81. 6 Eagleton, Criticism and Ideology, p. 138. 7 Said, ‘Through Gringo Eyes’, p. 277. 8 Ibid. 4 translate to a true displacement of experience.9 Its metaphorical realisation is incomplete, the supposedly itinerant authority always circumscribed by the limits of Conrad’s gaze. The imaginative failures noted here do not preclude a reading of Nostromo’s empty centre as a functional part of the novel, and neither do the legitimate failures of Conrad’s often-reprehensible representation of non-western people, though it is with care that we must proceed.10 Existing critical readings of Nostromo frequently prioritise the novel’s dense and intricate texture in seeking to demystify its representational strategy. For Jacques Berthoud, Nostromo is complex to the extent it is ‘a novel one cannot read unless one has read it before’; for Eloise Knapp Hay it is a ‘concatenation’ of disconnected effects; and for Fredric Jameson, the novel offers an ideological resistance to the ‘realistic representation of history’ itself.11 In a more recent reading, Beci Carver argues that ‘Conrad’s mimesis ... adds to nothing when rounded up’. 12 Carver’s observation has a particular resonance when considered alongside Nostromo’s representation of the economy. Though the novel’s capitalists are relentless in their pursuit of expansion and profit, just what it is that they seek to acquire slips persistently from their grasp, and from the reader’s too. In constructing this perpetual irresolvability, Conrad figures a new way of seeing an increasingly diffuse global economy. The novel’s empty centre is a form of imagining the social and financial relations necessitated by autotelic capitalist expansion: it is deliberately and resolutely empty, and it 9 Edward Said, Beginnings (Baltimore 1978) p. 23. 10 Benita Parry, Conrad and Imperialism: Ideological Boundaries and Visionary Frontiers (London 1983) p. 3. 11 Jacques Bertoud, Joseph Conrad: The Major Phase (Cambridge 1987) p. 97; Eloise Knapp Hay, The Political Novels of Joseph Conrad (Chicago 1963) p. 176; Fredric Jameson, The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act (London 1981) p. 280. See also Kenneth Graham, Indirections of the Novel: James, Conrad, and Forster (Cambridge 1988) pp. 116-19. 12 Beci Carver, Granular Modernism (Oxford 2014) p. 3. 5 creates a vision of a world where everything is a subject of capital, and where everything is subordinate to economic connection. HISTORY AS EMPTY CENTRE Conrad’s claim that Costaguana represents ‘a South American state in general’ gives credence to the case for the author’s limited understanding of the non-western world.13 Nostromo’s geography performs an imaginative colonisation of northern South America, sometimes neglecting and sometimes half-adopting the histories of places with historical contexts of their own.14 Despite this problematically flexible approach to geography, the novel is not uninterested in the local historical moment. As Benita Parry observes, Nostromo chronicles ‘a society in transition from old colonialism to new imperialism’ in South America: the wider economy that the novel’s characters and materials participate within is 13 Joseph Conrad’s Letters to Cunninghame Graham, ed. C. T. Watts (Cambridge 1969) p.